The Oscars can sometimes be predictable, and sometimes only seem to be. But there is one person you definitely will not see picking up a major award on Feb. 27.

A famous African-American.

Any famous African-American.

For the first time since the 2000 Oscars — the year of "Gladiator" — it’s an all-white race. Director, actor, actress — even the supporting-performance categories are monochromatic. (The closest you might come is Hailee Steinfeld, of "True Grit," whose mother is reportedly of white, Asian and African-American descent.)

"I don’t want to make this just another whine," says Warrington Hudlin, head of New York’s Black Filmmaker Foundation (and veteran producer of projects like "Boomerang" and TV’s "Bebe’s Kids"). "There are ebbs and flows, I know. But I was very disappointed this year."

"It’s really discouraging," agrees Tim Gordon, a Washington, D.C., film journalist and chief of the Foundation for the Advancement of African-Americans in Film. "I don’t want to be a conspiracy theorist, though; There are probably a lot of factors."

There are certainly a number of theories. That, with the Obama election won, Hollywood has forgotten about race. That plenty of Oscar-caliber talents (Will Smith, Spike Lee) weren’t very active this year. That most of the films blacks did make were, in Gordon’s words, simply "gosh-darn awful."

But the most obvious explanation? Look at the best-picture list. And even with the expanded roster of 10 nominees, not one had a single, sizable role for an African-American. How can black actors be nominated if they’re not being cast?

EMPOWERING IMAGINATIONS

The problem, the numbers suggest, begins behind the camera.

According to the Directors Guild of America — which doesn’t track employment — only about 10 percent of its membership isn’t white. At the Writer’s Guild of America, all minorities, combined, account for about 6 percent of screenplays, a figure that hasn’t changed in years.

"Actually, I’m working on a new report on that now," says Darnell M. Hunt, director of UCLA’s Ralph Bunche Center for African-American Studies. "And it has changed. It’s gone down to about 5 percent."

It’s an old-boy situation and hardly new (women, taken separately, are even more underrepresented), but it leads to an obvious problem. If people tend to write what they know, then that overwhelmingly white majority of screenwriters aren’t going to write black characters.

"Actually, I’m beginning to like it better when they just leave us out," says Miriam J. Petty, an assistant professor of visual and performing arts at Rutgers and a member of the Newark Black Film Festival’s selection committee. "Because they so often get it wrong."

Unless they’re there to specifically talk about prejudice ("You never have white people sitting around in a movie talking about race," Petty says), black characters generally fill one of a few stereotypes. The "sassy" friend. The selfless caregiver. The villain. The whore. The clown.

"It’s unfortunate that there aren’t a variety of roles, and a lot of our members express that conflict," says Rebecca Yee, the Screen Actors Guild’s National Director of Diversity and Affirmative Action. "They don’t want to have to play to a stereotype. But they feel they should be able to play anything. And, you know, a paycheck is a paycheck."

Not only do writers rarely write for African-Americans, directors rarely use black performers in parts that aren’t defined by race — vastly limiting access to Oscar-ready material. A few superstars — Denzel Washington, Will Smith — occasionally get roles a white actor could play. But most casting agents aren’t color-blind.

"I understand the theory that we’re not seeing a lot of African-American actors because the roles aren’t being written," Yee says. "But a lot of roles aren’t race-specific, and members tell us they’re never considered for those. The default seems to be, well, if it’s not specified in the script, than it’s a Caucasian male. And that’s who gets cast."

EMPOWERING FILMMAKERS

So, if studios simply hired a wider variety of people, we’d see more diverse movies — and a more diverse group of Oscar winners?

Not necessarily.

First, there has to be a pool to draw from. Although activists like Hudlin have pioneered resources such as castandcrewofcolor.org, a network for minority talent, the pool is going to be shallow until film schools attract a more diverse student body. While evidence is anecdotal, many graduates recount a nearly all-white environment and, says Hunt, "a very alienating experience."

Second, filmmakers who do get an opportunity have to be brave enough to risk making something different, instead of the same-old, same-old.

"Until we get a more diversified studio system, we’re going to see a lot of the same regurgitated stories," Gordon says. "I mean, Tyler Perry’s got another ‘Madea’ film. Martin Lawrence has a new ‘Big Momma’ film. Great — two more movies about guys dressed up like women!"

Some are hopeful that now that he has some Hollywood leverage, Perry will move from broad comedies to drama — see last year’s "Precious," which he helped produce, and this year’s "For Colored Girls," which he directed.

"That movie shows him getting out of his comfort zone — like the R&B guy who one day says, ‘You know, I can do jazz, too,’" Hudlin says. "I’m still hopeful about Tyler Perry. Actually, I thought there was an extraordinary set of performances in ‘Colored Girls’ — Kimberly Elise, Phylicia Rashad, Thandie Newton — that was overlooked by the Academy."

But the studio behind "For Colored Girls" didn’t buy big ads touting its actresses for awards. A push by Halle Berry for her own passion project, "Frankie and Alice," resulted in a Golden Globe nomination but nothing else — not even a firm, wide-release opening date.

Other 2010 movies — "Mother and Child," with Samuel L. Jackson and Kerry Washington, "Night Catches Us" with Anthony Mackie, "Brooklyn’s Finest" with Don Cheadle — were ignored, too. There were some potential nominees there. But who saw them? And how can filmmakers make sure more people do?

EMPOWERING AUDIENCES

One option is film festivals, where a particular genre or interest can be nurtured. The Newark Black Film Festival, an annual summertime event, is beginning its 37th year.

"There’s a hunger for more than what Hollywood offers," says Petty. "And there are filmmakers who continue to give us unexpected, interesting works. But you have to seek them out. And what we really try to do here is focus on the conversation afterward, too."

Another option for fans is to look beyond theaters. Hudlin recently had a film project shot on cell phones and uploaded to YouTube; he imagines a near future when filmmakers deal directly with audiences.

"If you stay with the same gatekeepers, you should expect the same results," he says of the old system. "You know, to use a historical analogy, post-slavery there were people who stayed, and people who took a risk and ran, and set up new communities. … Well, I think the internet could be our new community."

Others, though, still have hope for Hollywood — "There’s something to be said for the big tent, and access to that mass market," says Hunt. And while few observers seem convinced the system is ever going to be perfect, they still see an opportunity worth seizing.

"It’s not just black folks," says Petty. "The big studios aren’t terribly interested in nuanced pictures of anyone. But what we can do is make use of this moment when studios have to compete for our attention and show them there’s a market they’re not serving. Because, in the end, the only thing that ever really sways Hollywood is dollars and cents."